The Grande Plan
by aphmongolia
Summary: Tired of being repressed any longer, Baatar desperately wants to flee from Yao's house. What will happen of the rocky, unsteady relationship between Yao and Baatar? What is the "Grand Plan", and why is Ivan involved in it? Inspired by the 1911 and 1921 Revolutions of Mongolia, but not necessarily 100% historically accurate. Rating changed to M, because SAFETY FIRST.
1. The Plan Has Been Started

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia and any of its characters.

Warning: Psychopathic Ivan (or at least he acts that way). Kidnapping.

* * *

Yao's elbows hit the cold, hard floor quite painfully as he struggled against the stranger's hands that tried to pin him down, all while he drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Damn", he cursed in his mind, "I shouldn't have agreed to have a drink with this shady Russian. Should've expected that something like this would happen!"

His thoughts were interrupted as he was taken off of the stone floor and carried by strong, solid, steel-like arms.

"What do you think you are doing aru?!" he yelled at the owner of these arms, still struggling, though getting more and more lethargic and numb as the spiked drink found its way to his head.

"Kindly asking you to stay a bit longer", the stranger answered in a sickly sweet voice, and Yao caught a glimpse of amethyst before passing out altogether, his limbs going limp and his vision blacking out.

* * *

As Yao slowly opened his eyes and looked down, he was not so pleased to find himself tied to a wooden pole and he hoarsely cried out as he felt a sharp pain on his side as he attempted to move his arms.

"Damn, just what have I gotten myself into?" he thought to himself as he eyed the multitude of weapons that were carefully arranged on the only piece of furniture in the dimly lit room, a simple wooden table with a white tablecloth on top. Most of the weapons were blades of various sizes, ranging from small assassin's knives that could easily be hidden in one's sleeve to long, gracefully curved swords that provided its wielder with an extensive range of attack.

Yao's fear grew stronger and stronger the longer he stared at the glinting, sharp tools of bloodshed. Just what were his kidnapper's intentions? And where was the intimidating Russian anyway?

He squeaked in fear as he pictured the brutish-looking, silver-haired giant holding any one of the blades in his grubby, weathered fingers.

This mental image, however, was soon replaced by the actual image of the tall, terrifying kidnapper standing at the door, eyeing his victim in a strangely absent-minded way. Yao squealed even louder this time as panic rose rapidly to his throat, forming a thick knot.

"Hush, don't panic", Ivan whispered as he slowly approached the young man tied to the pole, "I want to ask you a favor."

Yao trembled uncontrollably and pressed his eyelids tightly shut, but was soon forced to open them again as he felt warm breath dangerously close to his right ear. Dark purple eyes pierced Yao's amber ones and Ivan whispered a single, horrifying sentence:

"You'd better accept if you value your body- and your life."

Yao didn't even notice the hot, round tears of panic rolling down his cheeks as he started panting heavier than he had ever done before. The fear gripped his heart, threatening to squeeze it still and suffocate him.

"Please, please DON'T!" Yao screamed shrilly as his chest nearly burst with fear. "Just what do you want from me?! What do you want me to do so badly that you are threatening to end my life?"

The kidnapper's lips curved slightly upwards as he understood that the victim was willing to obey him. He hesitated a few more seconds, just to let the fear sink in a little deeper, before answering in a fake soothing tone:

"I need you to help me… destroy someone. Someone who you trust and love. Someone who has been under your rule for over 200 years, and is probably conspiring to kill you. Wouldn't it be great to finish that person off before he does that to you?"

Ivan enveloped Yao's neck in a firm grip with his rough hands as he spoke the last sentence, violet eyes glinting with a sick obsession that Yao, however, did not notice.

Yao did not even realize how tense his whole body became as he desperately tried to make sense of what this monster had just said. Who was it that he wanted to destroy? Who was conspiring to finish Yao? Could it really be that this sick psychopath was talking about…him, the once fiery monster who Yao had put under his pressure to stop his ravaging killing sprees? That man… had always been Yao's rival all throughout history, yet at the same time they knew each other better than they knew any other nation. Though there was hatred, resentment and pain, he respected the man deeply, and even felt a spark of affection.

After all, no other nation was so close to him regarding both history and age.

"No. Whatever you are planning, this is nothing you should put your nose into. This is a matter between him and me. I respect him. HE IS MY BROTHER AFTER ALL."

This time, Yao's voice was shaking with anger instead of fear. How dare this disgusting beast even think that he could get involved in the matters between him and Baatar and turn it to his advantage? Didn't he realize that his fights are HIS fights, and no one else's?

The beast spat on Yao's face, repressing his urge to finish the Chinese boy then and there, and proceeded to state in a clear voice:

"Whatever relation you have to him will not matter anymore once he breaks free of you. Don't say that I didn't warn you."

Ivan ignored the numerous curses as he walked out, extinguishing the little illumination of the room and slamming the door shut behind him. He didn't care if Yao escaped or not- he had already fulfilled the first part of their plan.

"Yao, you sure are an innocent thing. How precious."

* * *

Yes! First chapter! I have a general idea of where this Fic is going, but Ideas and Reviews are absolutely welcome. This is the first fic that I am actually publishing, so I would absolutely LOVE feedback.

Thank you very much for taking the time to read this fic :D

/=APHMongolia=/


	2. Memories and Threats

_This chapter shows events that happened shortly BEFORE the previous chapter._

_The setting of the story currently is during the Qing dynasty, when Mongolia was under China's control. This chapter is set shortly after the first Sino-Japanese war. _

_I had to do some major research to get the history stuff right- I suppose this chapter is very historically accurate._

_The human name I used for Mongolia is Baatar- a name that is fairly common in Mongolia and was previously used by others in their fanfics as well._

_A Ger is a traditional Mongolian dwelling- A tent of sorts that is round, quite sturdy and resistant to the weather. Easily transported, suitable for the nomadic lifestyle._

_A Deel is a traditional Mongolian piece of clothing. It is like a coat of sorts. There are thick and thin ones, for summer and for winter._

* * *

**Memories and Threats**

Baatar couldn't help but frown at the waxing moon, how it was feeding on light and growing fatter and fatter, until it became a full moon each month and started waning, again and again, a cycle that never stops. It so much reminded him of his own cursed fate, his constant power struggles with the man who called himself his "brother".

Innocent though Yao may seem, he was far more sinister below the surface. No one knew that better than Baatar. There were times when he was way more powerful than Yao in every aspect, and practically had him around his finger. Back then, he was too careless, no, too _confident_- he thought he had the whole world under his grip, and that his grip was too strong to escape from. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

After the emperor of the Great Mongolian Empire, Genghis Khan passed away, Mongolia was split into several units, and things were going smoothly at first. Seeing an opportunity to escape, Yao slipped away from Baatar's grip shortly after, only to be invaded and taken over again not even 20 years later.

Soon, the Yuan dynasty was formed, and Yao and Baatar grew closer than ever. Even when the other parts of Mongolia were being destroyed and taken over, the Yuan dynasty was strong, though short-lived. Baatar fully trusted Yao then; there was no one else he could trust and hold on to. Yao as well seemed content and satisfied with the bond they had formed. It was like a short, yet beautiful and intense dream; both intoxicated with strong emotion, almost too good to be true.

And as with every dream, soon Baatar had to wake up to face the mess that was reality. Power struggles, as well as famine and bitterness amongst the populace had weakened the Yuan dynasty. Yao was growing more and more distant and distrustful- or so it seemed. Next thing Baatar knew was that his ruler of then, Toghun Temur, had fled and died in Yingchang, and he had no other choice but to leave Yao and retreat to form Northern Yuan.

Both Baatar and Yao felt bitterness and resentment toward each other then, but still a little affection left from the Yuan dynasty was showing here and there. Their relationship was unsteady and fragile, periods of conflict intermingled with periods of peaceful relations with a little bit of trade. Baatar was somehow able to keep himself together, until Yao finally snapped and did what had led Baatar to ultimately hate him.

In 1771, the last Mongols surrendered and were put under Qing rule. Yao controlled Baatar very closely, and used his forces in police and military to keep an eye on the Empire quite often. The previous strong nomadic structure was slowly decayed, and by pushing the "Yellow hat" school of Tibetan Buddhism into Mongolia, Yao succeeded in leaving Baatar open to the penetration of Chinese trade, making him both defenseless and dependent.

Yao had taken full charge- the tables were turned around and Baatar was the one desperate to escape.

And how very desperate he was. Still, he was powerless to do anything as of yet. Baatar served Yao, yet was not allowed to come near him; apparently Yao was determined to keep distance to avoid old feelings resurfacing. Baatar was both grateful and angry at that situation- he was retaining his bloodline and heritage, yet the distance was too little to create an escape opportunity and too much to give a direct blow to Yao. It felt painful to be in such an unclear, foggy state- it was indeed like purgatory. Baatar had to do something- but what?

* * *

Reflecting on these memories was making Baatar sick and nauseous. Not only had he been recalling these memories often, but also was he tired of thinking over and over when he had no idea what to do about the situation. Somewhat absent-mindedly he sipped his tea a final time and decided to get ready for bed. After feeding the fire in the stove with a few dry sticks he took off his Deel and undid his braid; his hair was now a wild, wavy, yet still manly and raw mess around his shoulders. As he was slowly sliding into the thick wool blankets and sheepskins, he suddenly froze mid-action as he saw something, no, _someone _in the corner of his eye.

Ivan, otherwise known as Russia, was standing at the door, watching the tired Nation with a mischievous, playful glint in his eyes. He was flashing his trademark smile as usual, and even snickering a little as Baatar's expression went from somewhat scared to surprised to angry and annoyed in only a matter of seconds.

"What do you want, Ivan? I thought you disliked me, even hated me. Came to pressurize me from the northern border as well?" Baatar whispered bitterly.

Ivan giggled in a childlike manner, clearly trying hard to avoid laughing out loud, and entered the Ger without an invitation. "Yes, I am here to 'pressurize' you, as you so politely put it, but not for the reasons you are thinking of", he stated as he slowly approached the bed full of thick blankets and furs.

Baatar looked confused and proceeded to ask: "Then what reason do you have? I invaded and controlled your people, have I not?"

"You have, but that was when you were more powerful. Now you are a part of China, an underling of Yao. What use are you to me in such a pathetic state?" –Ivan whispered while getting dangerously close to Baatar's face- "I am after Yao, and first have to get through you before I can start to invade China. You will submit to me, won't-"

SLAP.

Ivan was struck hard across the face, which was now marked with the red outline of a relatively big hand. Eyes scorching Ivan with pure hatred, Baatar proceeded to take a hold of his strong, healthy hair and dragged him across the Ger to the outside, where a furious snowstorm was raging. Since his voice was nearly drowned out by the storm, Baatar shouted at the top of his voice:

"I would have taken what I deserved to take from you nobly if it weren't for you being such a disgusting, thoughtless beast. I will not fall as a simple side dish or prelude to China. I have my dignity. Now get away from here!"

Baatar kicked him in the back once before going back into the Ger and slamming the door shut, locking it and throwing himself into bed, anger and outrage still boiling in his blood.

Outside, however, Ivan was deciding for a change of plans.

"Just wait, Mongolia. Once Yao knows that he is in danger, he will certainly not see you as a side dish. It is about time that the two of you _re-united for real._"

* * *

_Yes! Second chapter done! There you have the reason for the previous kidnapping, though a bit vague. If you know a lot about what happened near the end of the Qing dynasty, you probably have a general Idea of what might happen next in this story :D_

_Thank you very much for taking your time to read my fics~ _

_/=APHMongolia=/_


	3. Clinging On

_New chapter! Describes stuff that happened after the kidnapping. _

_Poor Yao~ He must have felt quite awful!_

* * *

"Are you awake, aniki?"

A soft voice woke Yao from his dreamless, exhausted sleep. His limbs felt as heavy as lead and his eyelids were refusing to open as if they were fused together. There was a loud ringing in his ears that was harshly competing with the banging in his head. The inside of his mouth felt dry and rough, and his throat burned fiercely as he started to croak:

"Wh-where am I? What hap-happened?"

What happened before? Yao could not quite remember- nothing but blurry visions of a table- no, not quite- was it a table? A shelf ? And knives- blades?

"You were abducted by , aniki, though your warriors were swift to bring you back. You have suffered no serious injuries, he had just drugged you with some sort of unknown substance, mixed with immense amounts of alcohol. I assume you must be feeling like shit, since your system is in the process of purifying itself. Well, at least that's what the healer said, hihi."

As Yao finally managed to open his eyes a bit, he saw a familiar figure hovering over his face, bright eyes blinking rapidly and smiling cheerfully. The familiar curl that stuck out at the top of his head was touching Yao's forehead lightly.

"Yong Soo? God, I feel awful. Wait- abducted? Drugged?" Yao remembered everything in a flash, every single detail suddenly pouring down on him, his fear, his confusion, his anger all returning to his memory. He had been taken away by Ivan, and he was lead to some unknown place. But those things were not of importance; most of all, the things Ivan said were clearly scorched into Yao's consciousness, every single word standing out there like a spot of blood in an empty, white sheet.

"Don't say I didn't warn you..." Sounded Ivan's deep, intimidating voice in Yao's head over and over again, repeating itself endlessly until all of Yao's thoughts were pushed away to leave a single word: Mongolia.

Looking quite startled, the man known as Yong Soo asked: "What is wrong aniki? Did he do something to you? Oh GOD, has he touched you while you were drugged?! No fair! Aniki's body belongs to m- wait, where are you going?

Yao had stood up and was slowly, swayingly walking towards the door, stumbling at nearly every step as he was still under the influence of drugs, cursing under his breath as he did so. He needed to go see Baatar, make sure that he didn't- didn't what? Yao did not really know, but it he didn't care. All he knew was that he needed to see him, to speak to him, or at least just listen to his voice, his deep, harsh, prideful voice. Maybe then his head would be cleared of the doubts and suspicions that were growing like weeds in the back of his mind. Maybe then he could shake away the unknown, tight feeling in his chest...

Yao fell against Mongolia's door with a loud thud as his legs finally gave in to the numbness. He wanted to open the door, but his movements were too sloppy and his coordination was too foggy to do so. In a moment of desperation and hurry, he called out Baatar's name to encourage him to open the door. This turned out to be a bad decision, but Yao had forgotten that the door opened to the outside, so he was hit hard by the wooden door and landed in the snow outside the Ger as Baatar opened the door rather aggressively. Being too drowsy to get up and too numb to feel any pain, Yao just mouthed an incoherent, structureless sentence somewhere along the lines of 'You...won't strike me... with vodka, right?'

Cracking a little smile at Baatar's obviously confused face, Yao fell into the black void of sleep again- but this time it was peaceful and satisfying rather than exhausted and forceful.

* * *

Quite some time had passed since Yao suddenly showed up at Baatar's door, and as time went on, Baatar grew more and more uneasy. Something must have happened. Yao was acting rather strange and different- even a little insecure. He was constantly nervous and jumpy, and refused to go anywhere alone. Whereas before he tried to keep a safe distance from Baatar, now he was practically clinging onto him, demanding to take him everywhere he went and even building a Ger next to Baatar's to sleep at night. This was confusing Baatar greatly, since he had gotten so used to serving from a safe distance rather than being constantly in direct contact with the man. The last time they had been so close was during the Yuan dynasty... But back then, things were different and much more pleasant. Things were less... Forced. Yes, forced, cornered, controlled, that was how Baatar felt, and the more Yao clung onto him, the worse it became. Baatar wished that he could just escape- but god knew that was impossible.

Yao was being almost like a child in a way, like a young, innocent, scared child. If it weren't for the feeling of being smothered, Baatar probably would have thought that it was kind of cute. But he had learnt to avoid trusting others too much, especially Yao. He still had not forgiven what he had done. How could he? The once great empire, now a mere underling- this fate was too bitter, too painful to ever forget.

Today was another day with Yao clinging to Baatar like a fearful child. Yao had demanded that Baatar stayed in Yao's new Ger with him for dinner, and even wanted to have some Mongolian cuisine. The weather was now less harsh and cold, the snow outside was slowly melting little by little and the Mongolian spring came as furious as always. The wind outside became more and more powerful, and brought golden sand from the south as a gift. But that gift was not very appreciated; Baatar despised the cutting wind and mouthfuls of sand, cleaning took longer than normal and generally, lethargy was setting in. A nice bowl of hot Mongolian stew, with some authentic milk tea certainly would do him some good.

He served the hot, steamy broth in two beautifully ornamented, silver-plated bowls and poured some milk tea in two smaller ceramic bowls. A content smile appeared on his normally expressionless face as he handed the meal to Yao and he sighed with obvious happiness. It was one of the rare, peaceful moments that Baatar had thought were gone forever, and he was savoring it to the fullest. He comfortably seated himself on a small wooden chair and peacefully sipped his scorching hot tea.

"Is the meal alright?" He asked Yao, "It might be rather bland compared to your cuisine, since it contains few spices, but it is quite nutritious. The spring is harsh on the body, so nutrition is essential."

Yao just nodded absent-mindedly and dipped a steamed bun into the soup, again and again, making it soggy and rather unappetizing, his eyes fixated on a chunk of fat floating on the surface of the stew. He looked sad, almost depressed and deep in thought. His bright amber eyes were no longer full of shine and light; now they were dull and rather lifeless. Baatar felt a little bit of worry at the sight, but that was mainly because the air around Yao was thick and quite a contrast to the warm atmosphere that was currently occupying the big Ger.

Hesitantly he moved his chair closer to Yao until he was sitting right next to him, and tried to catch his gaze. The room suddenly felt chilly, the previous warmth could no longer be felt. Yao looked back with a straight expression, but the slight shaking was making it obvious that he was nervous. As he refused to speak, though, Baatar decided to take matters into his hands, and proceeded to demand in a firm voice, hiding his own emotions:

"Talk. Talk to me. About anything, whatever you wish to talk to me about."

Yao nodded, and let the soggy bun fall into the broth. He leaned backwards on the bed he was sitting on, shifted sideways to leave some space, and beckoned Baatar to lie down next to him. Incredibly surprised, yet at the same time intrigued, Baatar decided to obey and placed himself rather awkwardly next to Yao, his long braid between them like a symbolic barrier.

"Baatar, I... I am afraid."

Baatar frowned.

"That much I have figured. It is pretty obvious, with you constantly looking around your shoulders and keeping me like a bodyguard by your side."

Yao sighed and closed his eyes, before opening them again and hesitantly touching the long, black braid with his fingertips.

"Were you able to figure out what I am afraid of? You have intuition. Take a guess."

Baatar's frown deepened as he started thinking of different possibilities. Yao's country was not doing so well recently, that was true, but Baatar knew him well enough to know that he would not be so extremely scared about such matters. After all, he was over 4000 years old, and had gone through the process of dying and being reborn many times. Despite his soft appearance, political matters never fazed him. Baatar could not really think of a reason for Yao's fear. He stated, his confusion mixed into his tone:

"I don't know, really. My intuition failed me this time."

Yao slowly undid the braid and started playing with the thick, wavy, dark hair. His fingers still fumbling with the locks, he raised his gaze and met Baatar's.

"Do you trust me, Mongolia?" Yao asked timidly.

Slightly taken aback that Yao actually used his country name, Baatar could not make sense of what had been said at first. But as he realized what had been said, anger started boiling up his chest, forming words that he had not dared to say before to Yao:

"You... are you trying to make a fool of yourself? What makes you think I would trust you after all the backstabbing, the betrayal and the cruelty?" He sat up forcefully. "Do you think things are so easily forgotten?!" The now loose hair was bouncing on his back as he furiously gestured, his anger barely contained in his body.

In all his anger, he did not notice Yao leaning closer to him and putting one finger on Baatar's lips.

"Shhh... I am not expecting you to trust me or forgive me at all. I know I do not deserve it. But I am scared, very, very scared of what might happen next. You might decide to do the exact same thing to me and betray me. You... I need you.", he whispered, his words becoming nearly inaudible near the end.

* * *

_Almost fluffy near the end... :D_

_And YAY for Yong-Soo!_

_Thanks again for taking the time to read this!_

_/=APHMongolia=/_


	4. Broken shell

_Woohoo! I had a lot of fun writing this._

_I thought that probably now would be a good time to finally change the rating._

_First of all- Warning: Attempted non-con, as well as a certain amount of violence._

_Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, except for the plot. Heck, even the plot is basically history._

* * *

"Shhh... I am not expecting you to trust me or forgive me at all. I know I do not deserve it. But I am scared, very, very scared of what might happen next. You might decide to do the exact same thing to me and betray me. You... I need you.", he whispered, his words becoming nearly inaudible near the end.

Baatar stared at Yao in utter disbelief and confusion, not knowing what to say or even what to think. His heart was racing with what could have been the same feelings he felt back in the Yuan dynasty. All the memories and moments came back to him, filling his chest with a golden warmth that he had not felt in a long, long time. Just as he was about to smile a little, his breath was taken away. Literally.

Yao was now sitting on top of Baatar, straddling him, his strong yet delicate arms forcefully choking his old friend and rival. His eyes were filled with a strange mix of desperation, regret and pain, but still he just continued squeezing Baatar.

Baatar was already seeing sparks, yet he decided not to close his eyes, but instead he kept staring into Yao's eyes with such hatred that it would have made Russia flinch. Yao closed his eyes to avoid the intense, burning hatred from consuming him. Baatar's neck was now forming bright violet bruises in the shape of Yao's soft, slender fingers. Suddenly, Yao pulled away and Baatar gasped and struggled with his own breath, desperately trying to soak in enough air to avoid passing out.

Yao cried silently into his hands. His whole body shuddered and trembled with pain and regret.

As Baatar finally caught his breath, he lightly touched the dark purple bruises, flinching in pain. He could not believe what just happened. How could Yao possibly do something so violent, so forceful? Especially to him? Has he lost his mind?

"I'm sorry" whimpered Yao pitifully. "I am ashamed of myself. But I am so very, very afraid of you leaving me."

Baatar grimaced. "Did you think choking me would make matters any better?!"

"I need you by my side, PLEASE!" The insane look returned to Yao's eyes. "DON'T LEAVE ME!"

Baatar stood up and wordlessly walked towards the door. He needed to clear his head- this was too much for him for the time being. He was so utterly confused it was shaking his very foundations.

Yao silently walked towards Baatar's back and held him tight from behind. Baatar tried to break free of the embrace, but Yao was too strong. Slowly Yao dragged him back to the bed, and pinned him down to the bed. His eyes looked calmer, but something was still off; it was almost as if he was numbing down something bigger.

Even though Baatar was struggling hard, Yao was pinning him down with such calm, steady strength that the efforts were fruitless. Carefully, almost lovingly he undid the top silver buttons of Baatar's deel and slid his hand under it to caress the upper part of the pronounced, muscular chest. Then he leaned downwards and planted a kiss on each collarbone, still keeping Baatar's hands from doing any movement.

Baatar looked at Yao, both confused and terrified. Since when did the man act like this? So forceful, so possessive, so aggressive. Yao was not being himself. It was almost as if he consisted of two entirely different parts; one minute he looked sad and depressed, next thing he was choking Baatar with his bare hands, yet soon stops and starts crying. Just as he thought that it was over, he then proceeds to force himself on him, with such surprising strength that Baatar wonders if Yao had been possessed. Was he alright in the mind? Baatar started to doubt the man's sanity.

Yao started to unwrap the belt of the man below him, and stared into Baatar's eyes while doing so. In a very low, dangerous voice he began to whisper a chant: "You will stay with me. You must stay with me, _your very blood_ needs to be one with mine... You will not leave me, no, I won't allow it..."

These words made Baatar's blood run cold. He could not believe it- was this man trying to force something like_ this_ onto him? He needed to escape, but- how? Yao was much stronger than him, and basically had nearly full control over him. There was not much he could do.

But he couldn't just let himself be forcefully joined with him, right?

When the belt was finally undone, Baatar panicked and grabbed a nearby silver chopstick. With one swift swing, he stabbed the man that was pinning him down between the ribs.

Yao gasped sharply, yet soon fell silent as the intake of air further aggravated the injury. Dark, thick blood was trickling down along the chopstick's length to land on Baatar's now bare chest which was rising and sinking quickly as Baatar hyperventilated. Baatar's mind was blank- except for the thought of escape, of running far, far away from this wicked mess, this terrible, terrible shadow of his former best friend. He would not, he could not stay in such a condition.

Without a further thought, he twisted the chopstick around to cause even more harm. The wound opened up more, the blood was now steadily flowing in a stream down to the tanned, muscular chest, and the sound of flesh being ripped mixed with the quiet, pained whimpers coming out of Yao's mouth ever so softly. Yao's previous come-hither gaze was now replaced by two round, glistening orbs with a flash of honey-sweet amber.

Baatar pushed the trembling man away from his chest and ripped open the door, breaking it in the process. His mind was too absent to make sense of anything happening around him; he just ran and ran and ran to nowhere in particular. He could not even grasp whether or not he was dreaming; all this could not be real... Could it? The man who was now probably lying on the bed bleeding could not be Yao, the sweet, slightly arrogant man with a love for cute, fuzzy animals and good cuisine. The man who just tried to force himself onto Baatar could not be the guy with a slight family complex who claimed all other Asian nations to be his brothers and sisters. It simply could not be, right...?

Lost in his painful doubts and thoughts, Baatar bumped into something hard and rough. Slowly awaking from his mind, he looked around and realized that tall, black shadows were all around him, the little light making everything seem like a grey blur.

He was in a forest, a very dense and dark one. Where in the name of the great emperor was he? He had no idea, and he didn't even care all that much. Sudden exhaustion, both mental and physical, was gripping him tightly. Looking around he found a rather inviting patch on the ground under a tree, cushioned with loose soil and a little bit of new, fresh undergrowth. Sighing heavily he fell with a thud onto that soft patch, the impact softened by the ground and his warm, furry deel.

As he looked up at the tree crowns and a tiny piece of the night sky, he wrapped his blood-smeared chest tightly with the fur, and tried not to think of anything. But even as he slipped into sleep, the vision of Yao's face above his own, twisted into an insane grimace, would not leave his mind.

* * *

_YES! I absolutely loooooovvee Yandere!Yao. Heheh. _

_The basis for this chapter is that when the Qing dynasty became more and more afraid of Mongolia betraying them and Russia screwing them over, they decided that Mongolians are to gradually become one with China by forceful insertion of Chinese culture and intermarriage. _

_Well, it was not the Han Chinese, but the Manchu people (do they even exist now?), and China itself was having a lot of inner turmoil because the actual Chinese people were tired of Manchu rule. _

_So yeah, this attempt at cultural and racial unification pissed off Mongolia. A lot._

_Thanks again for taking your time to read this fic~_

_/=APHMongolia=/_


	5. Lost brother

Chapter 5

AN:

Oh god, I am a monster and you have every right to be angry at me. It took waaaaaay to long to update this! I am so super sorry! I just sorta forgot about the thing because I was busy doing other weird stuff like drawing fanart. Oh boy. AND I sincerely apologize if the last chapter had made you uneasy!

Now, the real plan is starting to unfold. Or something like that.

барбар- Barbarian

дүү минь, миний дүү- Mongolian for "my little brother/sister"

мой брат- Russian for "my brother"

I own nothing except for the plot (sorta kinda).

Have fun~!

* * *

The sticks crackled loudly under his feet as he walked through the forest, breaking the near silence rudely. Baatar had been trudging through the forest for quite a while now ever since he woke up in the wee morning hours. The forest was very dense, and the sun was barely visible, so that he could not really tell what the time was.

He felt the need for space, and he was suspecting that Yao might have sent some of his people to bring him back, but for the time being, he just wanted to be far away from him. Not only that; he also needed to seek a way to escape him altogether. But how was he going to do so? He had no one who would help him, and right now he didn't even have any idea where he was…

Baatar froze abruptly as a small, childish giggle slipped into the steady rhythm of his steps. However as he carefully looked around, no one appeared to be there.

"Am I starting to hear things? The shock must have numbed by senses.", he thought to himself, before trudging off again.

Another giggle, this time closer.

"Who's there?! Show yourself!"

Silence bore into his ears once more.

"Am I losing my sanity as well now? Ugh, as if being ruled by a near insane one weren't enough. "

"Why, it is your true sanity that is speaking to you." sounded a voice.

A childish voice.

Not close anymore, no.

Baatar shook his head. _No, it couldn't be_. _Not now. Not this suddenly_.

"I am not prepared! _No_!" he croaked weakly.

The voice sounded _within him_.

With the realization of whom the voice belonged to, he sank to his knees trembling. After all these years of silence, of obedience, of discipline, finally his real voice was speaking up.

The eerie, yet determined childish voice was still echoing through his head. Drowning in the echo, his thoughts were blurring and fading away, until only the voice remained in his mind.

Clearly, quietly, soothingly the voice soaked his consciousness with its commands.

* * *

Ivan was tired. It was amazing that he hadn't collapsed from exhaustion already, since the past two decades were more than exhausting. They were outright draining.

Bloody Sunday.

The war with Japan.

All this tension.

The 20th century had only just started, yet already had he fought the first big war already.

He needed to rest for only a little while.

Rubbing his eyes he walked up the stairs of his mansion to his quiet, peaceful bedroom. Oh, how much quiet and peace he needed. He could almost feel the soft warmth of his bed as he was changing into his nightgown.

"I need to rest for now. ABSOLUTELY NO DISTURBING." He shouted down the hall, hoping that any of his servants may hear his order.

"What if it is something urgent?" A voice shouted back.

"I don't care HOW urgent or important anything may be, I need to rest. All can wait."

Shouting tired him even more. Why couldn't they just let him be for a few moments?

"I guess it is a country's fate to never rest, hmm..." He mumbled as he slid into his covers.

So warm. So soft. So comfortable. Yet still he felt all his responsibilities as a country pierce his conscious, seep through his mind, polluting a place which should have been pure.

Couldn't even his mind keep quiet?

Frustrated, he turned and tossed beneath his many blankets. He always had many layers of blankets, even if the house was warm. Weird old habit, it seemed.

"I-Ivan?" Sounded a whisper from behind him, very close. Dangerously close.

Without a second thought, he abruptly turned and placed himself on top of the disturber and pinned them down, only to feel pure shock soon after.

"Ivan! Please, don't misunderstand! I am not trying to hurt you or anything!" Choked the intruder out. A dark blur, features not distinguishable in the dark, but the telltale trait that Ivan had learned to fear, hate and despise over the centuries was all too easily recognizable. Ivan pulled the long braid and smashed the owner of it onto the ground. A painful groan mixed with a small crack.

"If it isn't the broken empire. You should get that stupid tail of yours cut, it is providing an open end for attackers. Too bad you take to much pride in your customs to think rationally." Ivan said in a low voice, eyes narrowed with old hatreds bubbling up.

Baatar, however, only groaned some more as he felt up the open wound on his forehead from which thick, warm blood was trickling.

Ivan stood up and lifted the Mongolian's head by pulling on the braid again. "What is it, барбар, came here to get beaten up? Are you a masochist now?" He let out a fake giggle. "Good for you, you have taught me your sadistic ways well. Time to put them to use, да?"

Baatar closed his eyes. "No. I am not a masochist. And you are not a sadist."

Ivan bit his cheek. What was this crazy man blabbering about? "Oh, is that so?"

"Yes, Ivan, I know your supposed cruelty is nothing but pretense. I spent 300 years with you, дүү минь." Baatar opened his eyes to look into Ivan's.

Ivan's grip loosened and let the wounded man fall onto the floor once more with a thud. He was taken aback. What did that old fart use that phrase for? He wanted to forget his time under Tatar rule, forget all about his child self under the control of the two braided, foreign men. Why was he making these memories resurface?

"What do you want? You are weak now, and if you are thinking you intimidate me still, you are dead wrong." He seated himself on his bed.

Baatar crawled up and collapsed on the bed next to where Ivan was seated. His breath was labored and came rattling. "I-Ivan... Listen..." He choked before grabbing the others hand. Ivan tried to pull his hand away from the others grip, but failed.

"What is this about, stinky old Tatar? Let go of me!" Ivan growled, irritation clearly growing. His patience was thinning. What did Baatar want? Didn't he throw him out in the snow the last time they met?

Baatar held onto Ivan's hand even tighter and started speaking.

"Ivan, миний дүү... You have every right to hate me, to despise me, to curse me however you want. Me and my brother... We have done many mistakes in the past, we have hurt you and scarred you."

'Oh right, they surely have' Ivan thought to himself, while he remembered the many scars he received so long ago, some nearly invisible already.

"And by scars, I am not only talking about the ones on your body..." Baatar's voice was getting softer. Ivan had to strain his ears to hear the other's speech.

"The scars left on your soul... Forgive me. I know I have no right to ask you for forgiveness, but perhaps, perhaps you find it in your soul to do the unthinkable and forgive a weak old man who had hurt you so badly, so long ago..." Baatar's voice broke. Thick, round tears were rolling down his cheeks, mixing with the blood that was flowing from the wound on his forehead.

He looked pitiful and weak; Ivan noticed that Baatar was also quite thin and pale, his previous glory not to be seen anywhere. Was he malnourished? Was there famine and hunger at his place? Ivan had not noticed all these things before. Or perhaps, these developments happened recently.

"You are a fool." Said Ivan, with no intonation or emotion whatsoever, yet, deep down, he felt something tugging at his heart, something that was so foreign and at the same time so very, very familiar.

"I suppose I am... But even fools can be given a second chance, right?" Whispered Baatar before leaning forward to tuck a silvery strand of hair behind Ivan's ear.

"I might be a fool, but please... Allow me to show you how much I truly care for you, мой брат."

Ivan's head felt dizzy. Confusion, panic and fear all mixed up, he was not sure how he should respond to the current situation. Why was this man acting that way, what did he mean by all this talk? More importantly, why was he still allowing him to be here, even this close, touching him a little too lovingly? Only recently he was planting the seed of suspicion in Yao's heart and reeling in the satisfaction of having put this man, Baatar, in an uncomfortable situation.

"You... Why should I trust you? How should I know you won't stab me in the back like you always did?" He asked in a low, deep voice.

Baatar knew well how Ivan felt about him, since Baatar himself got a taste of what it felt like to be given a false illusion of love, only to be betrayed and hurt, both emotionally and physically. He sighed and lowered his fingers to lightly touch the scars that were still somewhat visible on Ivan's pale back, his tears still rolling down his face uncontrollably.

"Because I have learnt lessons I should have learnt centuries ago... I am so sorry you had to go through all this, and at such a young age, too." Baatar caressed the scars while lowering his head and placing it on Ivan's so that their foreheads were touching.

"Please, allow me... To assist you, to become a good ally... To make it up for all the terrible things I did to you."

Ivan was frozen in the others' embrace, and a tiny part of him he never even noticed existed, started stirring. He could not define what it was, but he was certain he did not really like it. Before he could even make sense of that unknown feeling, Baatar pulled away and stood up.

"I... I guess you have had enough of my foolishness for now, and I apologize for entering so unceremonically. I will take my leave now." Baatar said quietly before heading towards the window he climbed through earlier. He did not walk out of the front door since he wanted to avoid any others knowing of his late night visit.

Ivan gulped. What was he going to do or say? Kick this man out of the window and tell him to kill himself or...perhaps, just hypothetically, he could accept the other's offer?... No. He could not trust anyone. Especially not him. Not now, not yet. But... Could he just let this situation fade away like this, making all the words that were said by Baatar worthless?

After nervously taking in a deep breath, he said hesitantly: "I...I suppose I'll see what I can do to help you a little. I would like to broaden my range of influence, and you could act as a buffer between me and China." Right? Yes, it was right that way. It was wise to use his former invader as a tool. Yet Ivan was not so sure if he really meant it or was simply being a hypocrite.

Baatar, however, turned around and smiled at Ivan before leaving through the window wordlessly.

* * *

Ivan, otherwise known as Russia, did not sleep well that night. No, he was planning on helping the man he despised, hated and always wished to kill, even though it made no sense at all. It all felt so ridiculous, so out-of-the-norm, so surreal-

Yet still, he had decided to do it. He was not one to back away from his decisions.

* * *

WHOA i apologize again it took so long... but i hope it was worth the wait.

Next chapter is going to involve all three of them hmm...

Thank you for taking the time to read this!

/=APHMongolia=/


	6. Restriction

_I apologize for taking long again_

_Not to mention short chapter is short_

_All my chapters are short omg_

_Been lately feeling like shizz so bear with me_

* * *

Baatar hesitantly opened the door to his Ger.

"Where have you been?" A familiar voice. Just as expected.

"Hello, Yao."

"I asked WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" Yao was sitting on the bed, curled up in the blankets, and his chest wound seemed to have been bandaged. His eyes were full of worry and small tears had formed on the edges.

Baatar sighed. "I was walking around in the woods for a while. Then your men found me and brought me here." He took off his shoes and sat down on the other bed. Wordlessly, he poured himself some tea and stared at the ground.

"I know my men brought you here, but where were you before they found you?!"

"I told you already, I was lost in the woods." Baatar continued to stare at the ground.

"No, I don't believe you. We searched through that forest at least twice, and you were nowhere to be found. You must have been somewhere else."

"I was lost, who knows, maybe I wasn't in the same forest the whole time." Baatar looked up at Yao. The bandages were stained red where the bleeding had not stopped yet. "How is your wound doing?"

Yao glared at Baatar. "Stop playing around, don't try to change the subject. I know you are not concerned about this wound in the slightest. You tried to run away."

Baatar laughed humorlessly. "Run away? Seriously? When my land is under your rule? Where could I run away? It is not as if I have anywhere to go to." He sipped from his tea and looked at Yao. "Why are you still in my Ger anyway?"

"As I already said, I am afraid. Scared." Yao said, while pulling the blankets around himself tighter.

"Afraid? Scared? A man like you? You sure like to contradict yourself, don't you? The man who tried to force himself on me a day ago claims that he is afraid. I don't believe you. You are much stronger than you pretend to be." Baatar stood up, took his comb and started combing the knots from his long mane. His hair had become undone as he was dragged back to Yao's place.

Yao looked at Baatar. The Mongolian looked scrawny and weak, and had a rather fresh wound on his forehead. Hesitantly, Yao got up and touched the wound with his fingertips. Baatar flinched. "Ouch! Stop that!"

"Where did you get this wound?"

"I stumbled on a rock and fell." Baatar said as he started braiding his hair.

Yao narrowed his eyes and looked at the wound more closely. "I think you are lying. This wound is far too deep to have been caused by a simple fall. Someone must have hurt you." He fumbled around in a drawer and pulled out a bottle of liquor. "Let me clean that wound."

Baatar finished braiding his hair and frowned at Yao. "Why do you care? And no, I can clean the wound myself." He said and took the bottle of liquor away from Yao. He opened it and drank some of it.

"I care because I don't want you to get hurt. And who hurt you like this? I know it was not a fall." Yao tried to take the bottle away from Baatar, but the other slapped his hand away.

"Yeah, right, you don't want me to get hurt but you would love to rape me, I know. I know what a messed up logic you have." Baatar chuckled dryly and drank until the bottle was finished. He threw it near the bedside and laid down, turned away from Yao.

Yao shifted his weight between his feet uncomfortably. After standing next to the seemingly sleeping man indecisively for a few minutes he ran out of the Ger and slammed the door shut.

Baatar sighed and stood up as a wave of relief washed over him. "Thank the emperor, he has not noticed a thing..." He mumbled and locked the door shut tightly. Then he sat down to scribble on a piece of paper hastily in Uighur Mongolian script. He had made up his mind, once and for all.

* * *

Yao was tired yet restless. As contradicting as it may sound, the more exhausted he was, the more nervous and fidgety he became. Constantly he would complain about how tired and weak he was, yet as soon as he stopped only a moment to rest, his mind would go on a rampage and process a million things at once. He had never been like this before. Even if matters got out of control, at least his own head was always in control. But not this time; what was going on with him?

His servants, his bosses, as well as his people all noticed; yet no one was brave enough to point it out to him. Yao knew they were all whispering behind his back, speculating; stirring out rumors and spreading them like tumors. "It's not that they are intimidated or anything; they just don't care enough for me to talk to me." This thought would cross his racing mind a thousand times each day, causing him to get even more fidgety.

He felt betrayed and left alone. Was there anyone who cared for him, any single person? The question constantly hung in the air surrounding him like a thick cloud of strong perfume, always left unanswered. The eyes of the people around him were screaming betrayal and dishonesty, yet there was no solid proof for anything. "Am I just being paranoid?" Yet another question, unanswered and hanging in a void.

Yao was staring out the window, his mind running and racing aimlessly as usual, the same thoughts repeating over and over again when the door knocked. "Come on in" he mumbled detachedly, his eyes never leaving the clouds in the sky outside.

"A letter." A small, timid voice whispered.

"Leave it here, next to me." Yao still stared into the sky.

Quiet footsteps neared Yao, and went back again as quickly as they came. The door closed once more.

"A letter huh? Bad news again probably... Or false flattery... I don't need either." Yao finally stopped looking at the sky and looked at the letter to examine the outside.

Western style envelope. Quite strange. He flipped over the envelope to look at the sender's address. Written in Cyrillic. Was this from Russia? "I-Ivan Braginski." So it was indeed from Russia. Literally. What did he want?! "Oh, this is certainly bad news..." He slowly opened the envelope and took a long breath before starting to read the letter.

He was frowning slightly when he started reading he letter, and as he progressed to read, the frown got only deeper. His grip on the letter tightened steadily until his knuckles where white and the letter was half scrunched up. When he finally finished, he tore the letter apart and threw the shreds out the window.

"No...BAATAR! Someone get him here! RIGHT NOW!" He shouted out loud, and soon enough, hurried footsteps could be heard trotting away from Yao's room, and to the outside. Yao waited for his underling to be dragged there. He was boiling on the inside yet somewhat cool on the inside. He purposely put on a cold, resigned expression as the door was flung open and Baatar was pushed inside by two servants.

Baatar looked disoriented and confused. "What's the matter, Yao? I thought you didn't need me much lately." His voice expressed pure confusion.

"Don't you play innocent with me." Yao's face was devoid of any emotion, yet his voice was on the verge of breaking. It seemed that hiding his emotions was not his thing and would never be.

"What do you mean?" Still perfectly innocent-looking, Baatar blinked at Yao like a naive little child.

Yao grit his teeth and then took a deep breath to try to steady his voice at least a little. "You... Have talked to people on the outside. Not just any people though..." He inhaled sharply. "You went crawling up to Ivan Braginski, of all people." His voice was trembling. He looked Baatar straight in the eyes, who stared back with bewilderment.

"I-I still don't understand what you mean. I do not talk to him- you should know this better than anyone else, he hates and despises me just like-" he broke in the middle of his sentence as he noticed that Yao had suddenly started crying silently. That was bad news, very, very bad news. Lately, Yao suddenly crying equaled quite irrational and rather cruel decisions from him.

"Then why would he suddenly change his mind and go threatening me? Huh? Explain!" Yao glared at Baatar with hatred and disgust. "Of all people, you betray me... And go making friends with Braginski!" He smashed a vase to the ground and it broke into many small shards. "My trust in you is broken. Just like this vase here." He kicked a few shards with his right foot and turned to look at him again. "Talk to him again, a single time, and you are done for. I cannot and will not allow you to communicate with him in any way again!"

Baatar blinked a few times. He nodded silently and slowly walked towards the door. Yao's voice sounded again, but softly and rather weakly. "I... I will not lose you. I can not be intimidated by that Russian just like that and let you roam around-"

The rest of Yao's sentence was not heard by Baatar since he had left the room and closed the door already.

* * *

_I am trying my best not to reveal too much as of yet_

_Reviews would be highly appreciated since I need feedback for this to continue (and really I wanna know if anyone's even interested in this)_

_Thank you again for taking the time to read this._

_/=APHMongolia=/_


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